The thing he hated the most—feared the most—his blindness, had brought her to him. Temporarily.
But it didn’t change the fact that under other circumstances she’d be far out of his reach. Unattainable. And he’d still be one of the guys sitting in the stands, Kim his favorite fantasy.
He silently cursed the fact that though years had passed, their relative positions had remained pretty much the same—she was still the beauty queen, a local celebrity, and he was just a working stiff with ambitions above himself. A blind man who was only too likely to bash into a wall or trip over a crack in the sidewalk.
Buttons licked his hand in greeting, pulling Jay back to the action in the station house. In gratitude, he petted the dog and scratched him between the ears.
“How’d it go?” he called out to the men he couldn’t see.
“Looked like the lady of the house was playing a little hanky-panky in the bedroom with her boyfriend,” Gables replied. “She forgot about the lamb chops in the broiler and they turned into crispy critters with flames shooting up the vent.”
“I figured it for a stove fire this time of day.”
“Yep. Fun part was the lady’s husband came home to check on what was happening. The boyfriend was hard-pressed to explain where he’d left his clothes.”
“Oh, my,” Kim gasped, a quick giggle escaping.
“Not a pretty sight,” Gables added and the rest of the crew joined in with their laughter.
“Sometimes we need a degree in social work in addition to fire-suppression courses,” Jay told Kim, still petting Buttons.
“Yes, I can see that.” She touched his arm lightly, sending an arc of desire through him. “Look, I think I’d better be going. Would you walk me back to my car?”
For a panicky moment, he searched for an excuse to keep her around—a few minutes longer. An hour. He’d settle for whatever he could get. He didn’t want her to leave. And he didn’t have any right to ask her to stay.
“Hey, I’ve got a great idea,” he said, knowing he was being a fool.
“Why does that make me feel like I ought to be running for cover?” Skepticism laced her voice as though she’d just announced some heavy-handed politician had promised never to take a campaign contribution from his favorite lobbying group.
“Kim, sweetheart, you’ve got to learn to be more trusting of men.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I just figured—since you were so worried about me—that you’d like to help me train Buttons to be my Seeing Eye dog.”
“Your what?” she gasped.
“You were the one who suggested I get a dog. Buttons will be great, won’t you fella?” With exaggerated affection, he scratched the dalmatian’s coat.
“I thought you were going to harness your cat.”
“I promise Cat won’t feel displaced. I’ll make it up to him by giving him some extra Cheerios in the morning.”
Kim sputtered a laugh. The man was absolutely impossible, and more than a little endearing. “Just how do you propose training Buttons to be your guide dog?”
“He’s got a leash around here someplace.” As if he could actually see, he glanced around the large garage that housed the fire trucks. “Hey, Gables, can you get me Buttons’s leash?”
“Sure.” Mike jogged to the back of the building and returned a moment later with a leather leash. “Here you go.” He flashed Kim a questioning look.
She shrugged, mouthing, “Don’t ask.”
Jay bent down and snapped the leash onto Buttons’s collar. “Okay, we’ll think of this as a trial run. Buttons, heel.”
The dog immediately complied with the order.
“Good dog.” Jay grinned and rose to his feet. “Buttons, forward.”
Jay and the dog began striding toward the open bay doors, and Kim was pushed to keep up with them, forced to hurry in her high heels. Darned if it didn’t look like this experiment might—
“Jay, stop!”
He halted, turned back, frowning. “What’s wrong now?”
She caught up with him. “I think it would be safer if you walked on the sidewalk instead of in the middle of the street.”
“Good point.” He didn’t seem at all contrite about another near miss that had sent a passing car swerving around him. “Guess that’s what happens when you’re being led around by an amateur guide dog.”
Not knowing whether to laugh or cry at the man’s antics, she slipped her arm through his. “Until Buttons gets the hang of things, why don’t we do this together?”
“Perfect,” he murmured, and she wondered if the ridiculous idea of Buttons guiding him hadn’t been a ploy to spend a little more time with her. Whatever the reason, he was a hard man to resist, particularly for a woman who hadn’t yet gotten over her adolescent crush on him.
In spite of herself, a little thrill of feminine pleasure shot through her. Before the earthquake, a good many men had been interested in dating her. But most, it seemed, were attracted by her physical appearance, or by what they thought she could do for them in the entertainment business. Jay didn’t have any such agenda.
The air had cooled considerably since the sun had slipped behind the coastal range of mountains, leaving Paseo del Real in shadows, and Kim shivered. She should have thought to bring a sweater with her.
“You cold?” he asked.
“Hmm, a little.”
In an easy gesture, he looped his arm around her shoulders. Immediately she felt warmer, his touch rekindling a long-banked fire within her.
To casual passersby they’d appear to be a couple out taking their dog for an early-evening walk. Except Jay’s dark glasses were neither a fashion statement nor an effort to shade his eyes. He couldn’t see her, didn’t know she’d changed from the woman he’d seen on television as well as the girl he remembered from high school. That she was now ugly, a woman few men would want to have on their arm.
If she didn’t tell him that unpleasant truth, she was an impostor, a fake who didn’t deserve to be in the same room with a man as courageous as Jay.
She stopped on the sidewalk. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“Oh, damn, don’t tell me Buttons has gotten us lost.”
“No, we’re on the right track. It’s just that…”
“I knew it. I couldn’t be that lucky. You’ve already got a boyfriend.”
“No, not that either.” She smiled, the movement of her lips tugging on the scar tissue that marred her face, and instinctively she ducked her head. “After the earthquake, the doctors did everything they could to rebuild the left side of my face. It didn’t heal right. It probably never will.”
Frowning, he gazed at her with unseeing eyes. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“I’m ugly, Jay. That side of my face is—”
He let go of the dog’s leash and framed her face between his big, gentle hands. The scarf was in his way, so he carefully slid it back and then with his fingertips traced every bit